Blue Smoke Ghost

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Blue Smoke Ghost

 

A matchbox scratch

A flare of light

The smell of sulphur

 

A yellow patch

Above his chair

On the ceiling

 

A row of pipes

Hung in a rack

Saliva drips

 

The suck

And suck

And suck on shank

 

Red glow

In the dusk

On a back step

 

The aroma

Of spices

In the ready-rub

 

Scratching

Grey ash

From the chamber

 

Tapping

Empty bowl

On the wall

 

The cough

The cough

The cough that killed him

 

Blue spiral

Of smoke

Over a memory

 

The ghost

In that place

By the fire

 

My father’s

Simple

Pleasure

fatherkillerpipe smokingsimple pleasuresmoketobacco

◄ Lady Liberty Weeps

Honourable ►

Comments

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raypool

Mon 18th Jul 2016 11:14

A real classic Ian. I am a pipesmoker (I love that term inveterate which sometimes goes with it by the way). Those who smoke today are treated as pariahs - a whole other subject. I love the brevity and succinctness of this . It conveys the comfort and the habit perfectly. (Don't smoke indoors incidentally).

Ray

<Deleted User> (13762)

Fri 15th Jul 2016 21:14

A yellow patch
Above his chair
On the ceiling

I remember that well Ian. My father died when I was 7, he was 38 - the nicotine stain above his armchair - heart attack.

Didn't stop me from smoking though - daft innit - stopped a good while ago I should add.

Blue spiral
Of smoke
Over a memory

Perhaps not the best of memories for me - but nonetheless you have written this poem in such a way to evoke those memories so clearly - which is a fine achievement. Thanks for posting.

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